Wrinkly Bits
A Blog by Gail Cushman
I used to pride myself in remembering numbers, birthdays, anniversaries, various costs, like milk, cheese, and gas. I remembered many phone numbers, most addresses of important people in my life, a few zip codes, two Social Security numbers, two calling birds, and a partridge in a pear tree. And now, we have to add email addresses to our list of numbers to remember, and although they really aren’t numbers, they fall into the same category as addresses and phone numbers. I used to remember where I put things, but now they don’t seem to stay put, and I find them in the oddest places.
It could be because my family has multiplied and I can’t keep track because my family has multiplied. I had two kids, added their two spouses, then added four grandchildren and you know how that goes, they get married, have kids, who have kids, and suddenly, we are grandparents and the beat goes on. Exponential multiplication. By actual count, I have 94 people on my list of important people who are related to me. And all 94 have sisters and brothers and other relatives, which makes my brain feel like a box of tinkertoys mixed up with a carton of Legos doused with honey. Then, I added Cowboy and suddenly have a whole bunch more. Every now and then, he has a new relative pop up, too, which makes it even more confusing. “You remember Uncle Jasper, don’t you? You met him three years ago at the MSU ball game.” Yeah, right. Along with 4,000 others.
I have no desire to lose any of them, they are all nice people, and apparently either love, like, or tolerate me (I’m unsure about 2 of them, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt).
Perhaps my whole memory chip is unreliable because I sometimes can’t remember why I went into the bathroom, when the reason is obvious. I can’t remember that I made a list and then create one or two more before I go to the store, only to leave them all at home.
Since my hair has turned white, my memory has fallen apart and I think this lack of memory has a direct link to white hair. I am pretty sure that white hair affects the memory portion of my brain. I don’t know the link but perhaps we could turn AI onto the relationship between my gray hair and memory loss.
Cowboy has only a few sprigs of hair, which is white, but has no issues with numbers and says “do one thing at a time.” So maybe my concerns about white hair are bogus.
At this moment he is putting pills into his one-week drug stash container so he can go to Elko for Cowboy Poetry and not collapse due to heart, head, or another malady. He already said, 7 days, 7 pairs of socks, 7 underwear, 2 pairs of pants and 3 shirts and he is ready to go. “Small suitcase,” he reminded me as he noticed my almost packed steamer trunk. That’s a hint to quit writing this blog and get packed. Stay tuned! Cowboy Bob is about to be loose in Elko!
10-4. Over and Out
